Replacement
by childrenofeomund
Summary: He weren't no replacement for Shane. Not now. Not ever.


Name: His Name is Daryl

Rating: Explicit

Warning: Graphic sex, strong language,

Tags: #mmmm yes, #Daryl Dixon, #Andrea, #sexytiem, #yes that is spelled correctly, #dirty talk

#southern drawl, #you have no idea what you're about to get yourself into, #mmmm Norman Reedus you sexay sexay thang

Characters: Daryl Dixon, Andrea

Preview: He weren't no replacement for Shane; not now. Not _ever_

Word Count:

Additional Notes: This little doosy I wrote in my math class. I feel so dirty, anyone could've seen. Nah, I lied, I think I did a pretty good job considering I haven't written fanfiction in yearsss.

It took years for Daryl to be recognized by his actually name, rather than Merle's little brother, or his father's son. So when people began to recognize him as his own person, Daryl Dixon, hunter and redneck, he loved it. There was no more nicknames, no more bullshit, and he knew exactly who he was, weren't anyone else, just himself.

So when Andrea asked him if he wanted to fuck her, because Shane will be gone for a few days, and she's bored, he got _mad. _He weren't no replacement for Shane; not now. Not _ever._ Never ever ever. This was his choice, and her choice, and he would be damned if she pretended he was some batshit crazy ex-cop rapist while he was fucking 'er. Oh no, she would be screaming _his_ name, no one else's, and if that meant roughing her up a bit when she closed her eyes, well goddamn it, that's what he had to do. He didn't really count on her liking it that much, but hey, it wasn't a loss that she did.

He stared into her eyes the entire time, but it wasn't a disconcerting or creepy stare, it was reassuring, controlling. She knew what he was saying so easily through those eyes, those angry and _demanding_ eyes. He was reminding her of who he was, and every time she started to race toward the edge, when her eyes started to close as the pleasure took over, she'd suddenly feel a hand pulling her hair, or suddenly around her neck, or twisting her nipples, rough and hard. It made her eyes pop open, and his forehead would press down against her's while he mumbled.

"If yer gonna cum, yer gonna say _my_ name, only my name, not his, never his, not anymore, yer my bitch now, and you need to see it, don't even try to close your eyes, not for a second, I'm not _him_."

It went on for what felt like hours, him drawing her in, closer and closer before backing off the second her eyes slipped. He would turn her around and force her onto her back as he slipped his head down between her thighs, and then he would lift her up and make her stand, legs splayed as he took her from behind. She could hardly take it, and begged him, pleaded with him, to let her go over the edge while he keeps mumbling possessive words against her skin.

"_Please, _please_ I'm so close_ of course yer close, yer on my dick _I can't take it anymore pleasepleaseplease Daryl I'm gonna explode pleaseee _you betta fuckin explode, gonna squeeze my cock tight with that little wet pussy look at me. "

And it becomes a mantra, every time she says please he moves his thumb on her clit and brings her just a little bit closer each time. Suddenly, he pulls out of her, spins her around and slams her against the tree before sliding back into her. He holds still for a split second.

"Yer gonna cum right now and you will _not_ close yer eyes, and you _will_ scream _my_ name, you hearin' me, slut?"

And then his cock is hard inside her and his fingers torturing her clit as he keeps whispering dirty things at her and she's finally going over, and tears form in her eyes as she fights to keep them open but it's just too much because they're rolling back into her head and

"Daryl Daryl I'm cumming fuck Daryl don't stop Daryldaryldaryldaryldaryl"

And then this becomes her mantra, a much more fitting chant as his lips crash into her's, rough and chapped and he bites her lip, _hard_, and she barely has time to wonder how he knows just how much she likes pain before she's riding the ecstasy, pussy and clit pulsing and contracting around his hot cock. There's a hand in her hair, her head is pulled back, and her eyes meet his. He's satisfied, because she knows exactly who made her cum, and it was better than she had in a long time, even before the walkers.

She realizes as she comes out of her daze that he's still pumping his hips inside her, his dick almost slipping out because of how wet she is now. He still has yet to cum. She gives him a look that he returns. His cock is gone, and the hand in her hair forces her down to her knees (but she doesn't mind, because that is _exactly_ what she wanted) and slams himself straight down her throat. It's rough, hurts like hell, makes her gag, and thinks she might throw up if he keeps bruising the back of her throat before she tastes the saltiness. She only swallows half of it down before he pulls out of her and pushes her back, getting the rest of his cum on her face and down her tits. She's never felt so deliciously used as he whispers her name brokenly and his hips jerk.

"Andrea. . ."

Their finished. She thanks whatever God exists that they brought a towel and blanket with them. She cleans herself up, and they lay down together. Daryl talks a mile a minute; she forgot how perky he was after sex. Ironically, she's the one who beggs him to quiet down so they can cuddle.

"Andrea?"

"Hm?"

"I'm not Shane. Never will be Shane, never want to be Shane. I'm Daryl, and that's all I'll ever be. If yer not already, get used t'it."

She smiles and presses herself back against him.

"I know."


End file.
